NationStates Jolt Archive

11 October- Governor’s Mansion- Brighton, Commonwealth of Hartshorne

For too long we have toiled under the shadow of Empire.

Private First Class Jesse Titus wiped the sweat from his brow before it reached his eyes. He felt like he was breathing soup. Greenish light filtered through the canopy above and lit the trail his squad was walking on. “Look alive, boys; we’re in enemy territory now!” the Sergeant called out, “From now on, we stick to hand signals, I want sound discipline!” Jesse continued to trudge through the light underbrush on the trail, ever heading northeast. He knew the Carter River was to his right, but he couldn’t hear it, the current was too slow. He shifted his ruck on his shoulder and checked his weapon. He clicked off the safety.

We have lain silent while under the feet of the Estovakian Imperialists.

Lieutenant Junior Grade Tristan Hildenberg smiled to himself as he felt the deck plates begin to thrum under his feet. He didn’t care that his vessel was a tiny patrol craft, he was happy to be in command of something. Besides, as it stood, he was one of the highest ranks in the fledgling Hartshorne Defense Force’s Navy. The tiny craft was about all the hardware one could operate on the Carter River anyway. His smile widened while he thought of the part he was playing in this. He was part of something great, fighting for a just cause, Hartshorne would be victorious. Estovakia would fall and Hartshorne would rise in the power vacuum their absence created.

Now, the people of Hartshorne, you, have chosen me to lead us.

The roar of Hind helicopters rattled the windows of Brigadier General Henry Kay’s office. He looked up from his desk grimly. New leader, new war. He sighed. Maybe after it was over, he would retire in peace. How many men would have to die before peace came? Kay silently decided he would end it as fast as possible. He went back to his requisition forms- if he was going to do this, he would need ammunition, lots and lots of ammunition.

I will forge a nation. We will become the greatest power on this continent.

Harold Reardon was locked to his television. His mouth hung open at what he was hearing. A spark of hope rose in his chest. Pride swelled in him. Now was finally the time. He would have a country, and not just a homeland. No longer would he reside in a protectorate. His only thought became where he could volunteer for service.

Their Empire will fall.

Governor, no President, Daniel Vorstein stepped down from the microphone. For a moment, there was an awed silence at the words he had just spoken. Then, thunderous applause filled the silence to the brim. Vorstein nodded grimly to himself, he could not fail his people. He had set a fire. He hoped he could control it.

OOC: Am I to assume we're going off of the map I gave you eons ago?

IC:

12 October- Bremerhaven, Pacific Estovakia

It was a bright sunny day outside and despite the fact the blinds to the conference room were closed the light from outside illuminated the conference room. Lieutenant Governor Hammond of the Free Republic* sat placidly in a black plush leather chair looking over files splayed all over the long mahogany table. To his right sat the rather attractive Jennifer Connor, Senior Political Advisor on Pacific Affairs to the Generalissimo. To his left, sat the quiet and rather stern Major Akio Ito of the Kempeitai. Across from him sat various military officers or government officials whom he knew nothing of.

Another Major walked into room followed by an older, pudgy man; it was the balding and grey-haired Governor-General Kuznetsov. He was followed by a small herd of analysts and secretaries who filed into the room and took their place in chairs lined up against the walls of the conference room. Fitting his title, the Governor General took the head chair.

"I'm glad for you to be able to join us, Governor Hammond," Kuznetsov said in a rather forced manner.

"As I am glad to see you Governor-General," replied Hammond politely.

"Why don't you begin on explaining the situation to us in the Free Republic?"

Hammond looked into the eyes of everyone in the room before he began. "As you know former Governor Daniel Vorstein dissolved the dominion status of the Free Republicans in direct defiance of the very conditions the charter republic** was set up upon. Just yesterday, he had announced in the capital that not only will his new nation rise up but they will also assault Estovakian possessions and destroy our influence on the continent. This you already should know.

I have worked under Daniel Vorstein. He is a firebrand reactionary with nationalistic sentiments and colonialist fervor. He opposed Estovakian restrictions on the expansion and settlement of the Free Republic into the Southern Tribes and North Savageland territories, opposed Estovakian monopolies on mining and utility industries, and opposed stationing Estovakian military within the charter lands. He has huge support from non-Estovakian citizens within his country, especially amongst expatriates of European colonies in Africa and Asia. He is narrow-minded and unwilling to talk and compromise. He can only be put down using brute force.

He already has a considerable leg-up on things. Much of the police force in the capital is loyal to the damned Vorstein and if they haven’t closed then they’ve opened up their armory to rebels who know have access to small-arm weaponry and riot equipment. The man’s treacherous roots go even further. As far back as a year ago Vorstein has collaborated quietly with rebellious members of the Free Republic Defense Force (FRDF). He shifted members of the defense force loyal to him to the military storage facilities. He now controls vast acres of equipment. Some of this is almost completely junk, licensed-produced Mauser 98ks, some other World-War II era weaponry, licensed-produced American M2 and M3 halftracks from the 1950s. But we also have reason to believe he controls the Armored Dismantling Grounds which hold many M60 tanks, as well as old-model M113APCs. Many are inoperable but there are so many on those grounds he’s bound to find spare parts to operate a few. He has no crews to operate them, but we can’t rule out the possibility he can use them. Thousands of vz.58s, FN-FALs, grenades, and light mortars from the war in Estonavia have also been confiscated. Finally, looking over records of personnel, the Kempeitai has found serious mishaps in the files of Brig. General Henry Kay Logistical Commander of the FRDF. Not only has he not reported serious thefts of supply bases, including thefts involving some high-tech NVGs and our R-12 assault rifles, but he has also sent supplies like rations and fuel and hoarded them in the bases that support Vorstein. He’s been bilking us for months and we haven’t even known it.”

“It’s a surprise we have any friendly assets. In Brighton, we have support of Estovakian nationals and the Brighton Fire Department, the only people preventing the Estovakian quarter from being overrun by rioters. Fortunately, one police precinct and the Special Operations Unit remain loyal to us. We also have enough military presence in the capital that if Vorstein were to show his face right now where he made his speech, he’d have new metal implants in the brain. Also fortunately, Vorstein was not able to take control of the Black Rock Military Munitions Facility which houses nerve gas and several SCUDs which were confiscated from Estonavia, as they are guarded by Estovakian military units and not FRDF troops. Fort Pemberton, as an Estovakian-run base, remains in our hands as well. Finally, the northern portion of the country, including the border city of Bougainville, remains firmly in our control.

"I know things may seem nice and rosy but let’s talk politics now," Jennifer Connor began. "The charter clearly states the right to withdraw from the commonwealth in its provisions. The Generalissimo has begun democratic reforms and softened government might and encouraged direct government which is exactly what's going on here. There's no law or precedent that supports doing a damn thing about Hartshorne so long as they don't directly bother Estovakia. Look, as political advisor I can already tell you all that we already are in a serious war with Estovania and public opinion will not support a war with Hartshorne on top of that. Furthermore, since we are a dictatorship democratic nations are quick to jump on the criticism and embargo bandwagon which can make or break us at this crucial time. We need all the support we can get, and every politician in the Parliament and the courts knows this. Thus, when the pleas of independence reach the floor I guarantee the Estovakian High Court will grant them. The bottom line here is that unless the situation is resolved favorably by the time the case is heard and settled, Hartshorne will be allowed to go free.”

Of course Governor Hammond wasn’t going to just sit there and allow that to happen. He was desperate and was quickly seeing that he was quickly losing his job unless something could be done. “The so called ‘Hartshorne’ government isn’t even a legitimate government. It was done without the people’s consent and without Parliament approval. As head representative of the government following Vorstein’s treachery I urge Estovakia to defend the Free Republic and itself from enemies, including those within the nation as outlined in the charter contract.”

Everyone looked toward Governor-General Kuznetsov. In response to the looks he responded “Well, charter or not Hartshorne’s independence jeopardizes our hold on the continent and endangers our security by dealing with countries other than within the Commonwealth. Inviting Hartshorne’s independence is inviting the start of foreign hegemony in the region. We cannot allow it. I will move as many Territorial Guardsmen and National Police to your assistance as I can, Hammond. But like Ms. Connor says we only have a limited time. You must get this done quickly.”

“Don’t worry. I have already begun to act,” coolly replied Hammond. “Major Ito?”

Major Ito stood up. “The Kempeitai has begun operating inside the Free Republic. Our plans are in full operation…”

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Brighton, Hartshorne

A mailman casually drove his van and parked in front of a two-storey in the more high-end area of town. There was news of war in Brighton but that didn’t mean a mailman’s job was finished. The mailman opened up the back of his van, took out his mail bag and walked up to the house and buzzed the speaker.

“Hello sir, I have a parcel for you.”

There was a long pause and then finally a response. “Leave it at the door then.”

“But sir I must have someone sign for it.”

“It’s okay, you can leave it at the door.”

The mailman became cross. “Pardon me for my insistence but I can’t afford to leave unguarded parcels on the front steps of houses in these days that we live in. I don’t know who will tamper with them or who will get upset at the sight of an unguarded package.”

There was a long pause. Finally, the door opened up. A bodyguard stepped outside, gently leaning on the front door with his back so as to not close and lock him out. The mailman handed him the parcel and the man cautiously weighed the package with his hand and gently shook the package to make sure it wasn’t a bomb.

The mailman insisted. “I absolutely must have someone sign for the package.”

The bodyguard put the package under his arm and took the pen and clipboard that was handed to him.

The poor bodyguard never saw it coming. Quick as lightning the mailman whipped out a silenced pistol from his mailbag and plugged two bullets into his forehead. He caught the door before it closed and guarded the entrance with weapon drawn while three plainclothes men exploded from the back of the mail van, two armed with MP5s, one with a 12-guage. They stormed the front entrance, one going left into the study, one going right into the living room and one going straight into the dining room. Two more plainclothes men jumped the high brick wall into the back yard armed with pistols and made their way toward the rear entrance and kitchen, and a nondescript car skidded to a halt in the middle of the street and unloaded two more plainclothes men armed with a shotgun and pistol respectively. The two men sprinted toward the front entrance with weapons drawn.

The unfortunate target for the day’s raid, James Carson, leader of the Hartshorne Independence Movement and Vorstein’s second-in-command, had no idea what was going on when he stepped out of his home office and approached the stairs.

“Hey Bill what was the pack-” all of a sudden there was a gunshot, some loud banging as if something were slammed, and scuffling noises coming directly from the kitchen. He looked down to see what was happening and instantly was pale with horror when he saw the three men with guns drawn.

“KEMPEITAI!!! KEMPEITAI!!! The men yelled as they rushed the stairs.

Poor James jumped nearly three feet backwards and recoiled into his home office which he quickly locked from the inside. The men sprinted toward the door and jingled the knob and found it locked. One of the men quickly tried kicking down the door and found it no use. He tried slamming his shoulder into the door using the entire weight of his body, eventually managing to force the door open on the third try. The mailman grabbed a flashbang from his bag and tossed it in. The men rushed the office and grabbed Mr. Carson just as he grabbed a SIG P-226 from a drawer. One man grabbed for the gun while another took out his piano wire and garroted Carson until he collapsed onto the floor gasping for air. The men quickly tied Carson’s hands and dragged him out of the office.

The mailman meanwhile had disappeared into a bedroom and came out with a young girl, obviously very upset and crying. “Okay we got two.”

The three men, Carson, and the young girl pounded down the stairs and were met by three of the other men. A blindfolded middle-aged woman with blond hair and rather good looks except for the rather bloody appearance sat quietly sobbing in a chair.

“And there’s the third. We’ve got everyone. Let’s move out.”

One of the men with the MP5 grabbed the lady out of the chair and thrusted her into the arms of another man, who hustled the three prisoners into the back of the mail van. He turned to the mailman. “You have to check out what happened in the kitchen.”

The mailman reluctantly turned into the kitchen and found the remaining two men standing next to the corpse of a bodyguard.

“It was totally fucking awesome,” said one “he almost had me but bam! Right from behind a shotgun slug to the heart by this fella over here,” he said motioning to the other man. “Blew the remains clear across the kitchen.”

The mailman scowled. “We have to go. Now.”

From the time the mailman knocked on the door, to the time the final man left the house, only 8 minutes elapsed.

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*Estovakian name for Hartshorne

**Charter republics were created to encourage settlement in Pacific Estovakia from foreign nations. In return for semi-autonomy and taxes, charter republics are allowed to set up governments of their choice and rule as they wish, but in practice most charter republics are heavily influenced by Estovakian politics and hegemony.